


Blessed by Ishvala

by hirayaart



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Romance, Royai - Freeform, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:28:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24454450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hirayaart/pseuds/hirayaart
Summary: A month into the restoration project, the locals insist on inviting the Mustang brigade for an evening by the fire. (Light fluff)
Relationships: Riza Hawkeye/Roy Mustang
Comments: 9
Kudos: 56





	Blessed by Ishvala

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted after listening to a violin cover of "Sa Kabukiran" (In the Farmlands).
> 
> Tracks while writing: "Kelas" (Let's Dance) from the Conqueror of Shamballa, and "The Land of Ishvala" from Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood OST

The small takht took their daff, riqq and uds and filled the cold air of the desert with the most soulful and movement prompting music any native Amestrian would have ever heard. Tonight was as ordinary as any other, but the locals had  _ insisted _ that this time the deployed forces of the Mustang brigade join them around the fire for merriment and drinking. It was after all, the conclusion to their first month of the restoration project, and even to a bystander it was clear that the relations among them were amiable. Somewhat still careful, but amiable, and it was all that the officer-in-command could have hoped for. 

He expected nothing in return, prepared even to refuse any indication of kind gestures and thanks, for what he was building here was nothing but his own repentance. He had once destroyed this land. He was determined to rebuild it to a point where it might become another capital nation, greater than it ever was in history.

But when a host insists, and in this case their hosts were the local men and women of Ishvala’s holy land, Brigadier General Roy Mustang’s upbringing demanded that he accept the invitation to join them by the fire and allow them to see who he might be without his uniform.

He did not offer to light the fire, and up until that point had deliberately avoided any form or use of alchemy in front of ruby eyes. Havoc and an Ishvalan woman had together started the flame instead, feeding lighted matches into the mix of kindling, tinder and wood. Before long, the fire had grown to its warmest, and with the gentle wind that came with evening, it was as if alive on its own, and dancing with the assembly of men and women and soldiers.

Mustang was more than content to stay behind, leaning against a hay bale and nursing a cup of strong rice wine that a young Ishvalan woman offered him before leaving to dance. He watched camaraderie and peace unfold among the ethnicities before him and his body ached as much as it relaxed, content with the day’s work and that he had allowed his direct subordinates to coax him out of the office and leave his suffocating blue military jacket.

Fuery and Hawkeye were dancing together, heads thrown back and likely throwing caution to the wind with banter as they traced circles in the sand with their heavy boots. Occasionally, and as they were taught by some of the locals, they threw their arms out and linked them together again, repeating the motion to the beat of the takht.

Havoc, Breda and Falman were also arm-in-arm, although in a much bigger group with other soldiers, and singing Ishvalans in between. They threw their hands up in the air and whilst in that position caught each other and danced hands-together in a circle. The takht rewarded them with a faster beat until they were all out of breath and broke the circle in fits of laughter.

Mustang smiled, and his eyes travelled back to his other two subordinates, and especially onto Hawkeye. Even while his eyes remained on her, watching as warm firelight caught on her delicate features and highlighted her cheekbones and lashes, his mind wandered to the events of the day and he soon found himself lost in thought, but enraptured...by  _ her  _ beauty.

Suddenly, Hawkeye turned to his direction and caught his dark eyes, her own resolve flushed and breathless. She grinned and ran almost eagerly towards him, stumbling on her way up the slight incline.

“General!” She called out as she fell to her knees and laughed at how winded she was. She held a hand to her chest and brushed her blonde fringe out of her eyes.

Mustang stretched his legs out slightly and bent forward to assist her to her feet. “You really shouldn’t be rushing around if you’re drunk, Captain,” he said good naturedly and offered a hand. It surprised him when Hawkeye accepted his gesture only to pull him up to his feet with her and with surprising strength.

“Hey--!” Mustang yelped, nearly spilling his wine.

“Dance with us, General!” Hawkeye laughed again, both hands on his now and tugging him towards the fire. The music emanating from the takht grew louder and livelier. More people joined the circle and clapped their hands in time. The Amestrians howled in tune and did their utmost best to mimic the fluid and powerful movements the Ishvalans performed in their dancing.

Mustang rooted his weight on the spot. “Captain, I’m alright,” he said haltingly, eyes moving past her and towards the merriment ahead. “I really don’t—”

He stopped himself as soon as he saw the look on her face.

His dear captain only offered him a kind smile, eyes dancing under the delicate blend of starlight and fire, brightening hazel with what seemed to appear to him like glitter.

“Oh,  _ Roy,” _ she teased and only squeezed his hand tighter. Anyone around them was either far enough to be out of earshot, or close but far too drunk to catch onto their exchange. “Always so regimental with your men, and all the more to yourself.”

“What are you talking about?” Roy wrinkled his nose and barely kept the smile from betraying his stern expression. When he received a giggle in response he swore it made his heart flutter.

“You work too hard and you play too little,” Riza insisted, this time grabbing the cup from his hand and setting it down herself at the bottom of the hay bale. “Dance with me, Roy,” she asked again, this time gentler and more encouraging. “Just like how we used to, when you’d sneak me into the library and to the fireplace, and convince me that I didn’t have two left feet!”

Roy released a resigned sigh and shook his head. “That was so long ago…”

“Please?”

And Roy was taken to every moment that he had ever seen her ask. She asked when he first said he did not know enough alchemy to show her how to fix her mother’s necklace. She asked when he first took her to a carnival in Tobha and she saw a hawk’s ornament that literally  _ captivated _ her.  _ I just want to look, Mr. Mustang, _ she had said. 

And she asked when he told her he had to leave for the military, and she really, truly, did not understand why he had to leave…

Roy managed another small smile and his eyes softened on hers. He told himself he would never again resist her ‘please’, if for the only time he ever did was when he had to leave her and estrange her from himself. He never wanted that to happen again, in any shape or form.

So he squared his shoulders, albeit sheepishly and squeezed her hand back. “Alright, but I’m not exactly sober, so I’m a mess.”

But Riza was hardly paying attention because she had already begun to lead him to the fire, eyes bright and smile wide.

_ God _ was she beautiful. If he could just freeze this moment and stay in it for a little longer.

“Hey,  _ finally, _ boss!”

Riza laughed and gripped Roy’s arms to turn him towards the direction of Havoc, who had plucked the cigarette out of his mouth and began to speak again. “Literally thought you were really going to sit this out like a bum. Good thing the Captain knows how to get through to you.”

Roy rolled his eyes and had to put effort into his frown. He heard Riza’s familiar laugh from near his chest and looked down to see her wiping sweat off her brow.

“Don’t listen to him,” she said simply.

“But he’s right.”  _ I don’t deserve you. _

“Stop that!” Riza exclaimed, seeing where her superior’s thoughts were going and tirelessly brought him back to her in the present. “Now, let’s dance!”

Within a few beats of the riqq, Roy had caught on to the same motions he saw Fuery try with Riza only moments earlier. And maybe the wine had done way more good than he would ever really give it credit for. 

Perhaps he could indeed freeze this moment, sear it into his brain like fire would brand a horse, and remember  _ her _ smile as if it were the same moon he would look up to every night from his bedroom window back in Central. He watched as she circled around him with effortless ease, as if her boots were light as feathers and she was but a free passerine in a domain for light footed danseuse. She was magnificent. She was beautiful.

_ How I love you… _ and he would tell her one day. 

But something in that look she was giving him told him she already knew.


End file.
